Pieces
by tant-gredelin
Summary: Grimmjow got hold of the right body, alright. Too bad it's the wrong soul inhabiting it. Warnings: Violence, language, implied non-con


**A/n:** This pairing came up in a cracky writers meme I did and I decided to give it a shot. It's my first time writing Grimmjow (or any Arrancar for that matter.) and I had a lot of fun with him. I hope I managed to capture his personality. :)

**Words:** ~2200

**Warnings:** Violence, language and implied non-con

xXx

Sixta Espada Grimmjow Jaggerjack created a cross-dimensional rift with the lazy flick of a finger. He listened to it open with the strange ripping noise that had taken him a long time to get used to. Not that Grimmjow would ever admit small shit like that unsettled him, but still… There was something inherently _wrong_ about opening portals between worlds like that. It went against the laws of nature and despite Grimmjow having major issues with authority, always having preferred mad chaos over order, he sort of liked the laws of nature. The simple ones.

Eat or be eaten.

Don't fuck with the borders keeping the dimensions of the universe apart.

Stuff like that.

Oh well, fuck it. He stepped into the garganta with a shrug, arriving in the real world a moment later with a large grin on his sharp-featured face, a toothpick between his teeth and hands lodged in his pockets, very much in the mood for a hunt and although he (yet again) wouldn't admit it, he had a very particular prey in mind.

It didn't take long to find it.

Man, the kid was so damn _predictable_, hovering like a restless spirit around the spot where his sister liked to play ball with her friends. Always the sentinel, always out to do good. Grimmjow snorted.

He hadn't been spying to learn this, mind you. Grimmjow would never _spy_. Nah, he was just… scouting. Making sure he knew where to strike when the moment came.

And now it had come. Not that anything special had brought it on, but he had found himself with some excess time on his hands and itchy fists and a deep craving for blood - for a good fight - and Grimmjow wasn't the type of man who denied his urges.

He spat out the toothpick and swooped down, landing on the street a couple of feet behind the teen. "Yo." A sweet thrill of excitement ran down his spine as he watched him freeze in his tracks, the slender back straightening and stiffening.

He didn't turn around, though.

Grimmjow frowned. "Oi, I'm talking to you! You should be happy to see me."

When the substitute shinigami finally turned around to face him his movements were hesitant and his brown eyes large and wary.

"That's better. Now get out of that sack of flesh and haul your sorry cock-compensation of a sword out and fight me. Let's settle this, shinigami."

Ichigo didn't reply, didn't even move. He just kept staring.

Just the sight of him pissed the Espada off. He stepped up in his face with a snarl. "Or do you want me to rip your arms off and beat you to a pulp with 'em? C'mon! Fight me!"

The boy took a step back.

What the fuck?

"You fucking pussy. Fine." With his features tightened in a scowl Grimmjow planted his sandaled foot square in Ichigo's chest _hard_, at least finding a little pleasure in the loud _crack_ it produced when getting in a perfect hit.

Ichigo sailed through the air and hit the ground rolling, coming to a stop dozens of feet away.

Grimmjow lifted a brow and sauntered over. "Oi, shinigami." He peered down at the body lying prostrate on the street. "Oi! Get up! I'm not done with you yet."

Still no reply.

He kicked Ichigo in the side, hard enough to roll him over onto his back, not quite hard enough to break any ribs.

The shinigami brat was conscious. He was staring back up at Grimmjow, but it _wasn't him._

Huh.

The eyes meeting Grimmjow's were huge and terrified, the face framing them twisted in shock and horror and pain.

That wasn't right.

He had never looked like that on the previous occasions Grimmjow had encountered him. Not even when he'd been on all fours vomiting blood and fighting to breathe had he looked anything like the poor excuse of a man that was now sprawled by Grimmjow's feet. There had still been a glint of defiance, of resolve in the brown eyes. This version was just… pathetic.

Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets and studied the human. He knew the substitute shinigami had to leave his mortal body behind when he headed out to fight, but he would never have imagined putting something else inside it. The idea was incredibly stupid. Wouldn't it be better to lock it away and keep it safe while its owner was elsewhere?

He shrugged. It didn't matter. The sight of the kid still pissed him off and things that pissed Grimmjow off got broken.

He toed the Ichigo-that-wasn't-Ichigo in the ribs, grinning wide as it produced a choked whine. "Get up, bitch."

"Who… who are you?"

Grimmjow cackled and puffed his chest out. "Grimmjow Jaggerjack, sexta Espada."

The boy's eyes widened even more. Grimmjow could practically see the little cogs turn in his head.

"E-espada?" he whispered.

"You heard me, you little shit. Get up. I'm running low on patience here."

One moment the kid was scrambling backwards, the next he was out of sight.

Grimmjow grinned. Fast little fucker, wasn't he...

Something gnawed in the back of his mind, some piece of knowledge he'd snapped up back in Hueco Mundo.

There had been an experiment in Soul Society a long while back, an attempt to create an army of corpses by… by inserting artificial souls into dead bodies. Yeah, that was it. And those souls had all had special abilities, been modified to fit a purpose.

He remembered Almighty Aizen (all hail, blessed be, et cetera) delivering that little history lesson now, drawing parallels to how he had created his Arrancar.

That was it! The creature inside the substitute shinigami's body had to be one of those mod souls, and its special ability was apparently speed. No human could run that fast.

He pondered the possibility of the mod soul being equally specialized in some sort of combat method but brushed the thought aside. If he had been able to fight, he would have done so already, not run off with his tail between his legs.

The Espada stuck a pinkie in his ear and dug around for a moment, idly wondering how long he should wait before he took up the chase. The longer his prey ran, the more it would get its hopes up, and when Grimmjow caught up it would be exhausted and devastated.

And wasn't that a nice thought.

He didn't have the patience needed to make it into a game, though, and followed the moment after.

Ichigo - the mod soul - _whatever_ - had rushed in the direction of the river bank. Clever kid, getting as far away from people as possible to minimize the damage. He had to hand it to him.

Grimmjow caught up with him in seconds. Human legs, infused with super strength or not, didn't stand a chance against an Arrancar's sonido.

He came to a halt in front of the rushing body, catching it easily in his arms and flinging it to the side, the mod soul once more tumbling round and round for several feet before coming to a stop, face down on the asphalt.

"Tsk… Don't you know that a chase only makes me hungry?" Grimmjow watched as the boy shakily got up on his knees.

He did indeed look good enough to eat, his face covered in dirt, his chin coated in blood from a split lip, eyes round and bloodshot – a pretty little deer caught in headlights. The clothes he was wearing were ruined, the front of his shirt so ripped a large sliver of tan skin peeked through.

Grimmjow could see a hint of nipple, a flat navel. He licked his lips.

"Please don't… I-I'm not the one you're after." Even the kid's voice was delicious, all shaky and hoarse now.

"Do I look like I give a fuck? You're in the right body."

"Don't… don't hurt me…"

"Can't make any promises, sweetheart." Grimmjow walked over to the kneeling figure and sunk down on his haunches behind him, roughly shoving him forwards until he was on hands and knees, and kept pushing until the boy rested on his elbows. He draped himself over the slim back and took in the smell of fear and panic.

There wasn't a sweeter smell in this world, or the next for that matter. Nothing could compete with the sharp metallic tang of someone who knew it was _too late_, that there was _nothing left to do_. Although Grimmjow sure as fuck appreciated a good struggle, he gladly admitted defeat had its charm as well.

This kid was defeated. He shook under Grimmjow but didn't try to break free, didn't try to do anything but keep breathing.

Grimmjow sat back on his heels and ran a hand up the trembling back until he reached the drooping head.

The mod soul shook even harder, tremors wrecking his body.

Was he..? He closed his fist in the boy's dirty hair and yanked his head back. Yes, there were tears streaking the smooth face and his breaths didn't come in panicked gasps any more, they came in harsh sobs. He was _crying_.

Grimmjow groaned. He had never imagined tears would look so good on the shinigami, but they did. They suited the handsome, yet boyish face perfectly, making glistening, pink trails as they rolled down grimy cheeks.

He let out a sharp bark of a laugh and once again leaned forward. "Crying already, shinigami?"

"I'm _not_-" The mod soul's voice broke.

"Shut the fuck up," Grimmjow hissed. He knew the kid beneath him wasn't Ichigo, he _knew_ that and he didn't give a fuck. To him this was Ichigo now, to him this was his enemy, the one he'd lost his arm over, the one he'd been itching to kill for so long now.

Still, he wouldn't rip the body in his hands apart. It wouldn't give him the satisfaction needed. No, he'd do something much worse.

Now, Grimmjow wasn't a scheming man. He preferred direct action. He preferred raw violence, pain, mouthfuls of blood. But he couldn't look away from the potential of the situation.

What would be better than leaving the disgusting shinigami without a mortal body to return to?

Leaving him a broken, adrenaline-depleted, panic-soaked, _raped_ body to return to.

His mind ignited, sparks of ecstatic arousal fizzing and crackling behind his eyes from the thought and he found himself growing hard in seconds.

Oh yeah, oh _fuck_ yeah!

"Let me go!" the boy cried. "I won't… Just let me go! I'll do anything!" His body shuddered so hard Grimmjow felt it reverberate in his core, his azure eyes rolling back in his head.

He leaned down to press his lips against the boy's ear, weighing down heavier on him as he did, making sure thin elbows and already scraped knees ground against the asphalt. "Oh, you don't have to do anything, shinigami. Don't worry… I'll do all the hard work." His chuckle was bordering on psychotic. "You just need to lie there and let me fuck you to pieces."

xXx

Feel free to leave a comment. I really like those. :)


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